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In Truth You’re Still In Love (With Addie Smith)

Not the kind of girl you’d fight for
the kind you’d end up getting into a fight over.
There’s a photo of her aged six crying with an ice cream
7 years later it’s fingers up outside the Wimpy
with a boy, with a bike, with a tattoo, at 20 outside
the art school that turned her down, I can’t say why
how or even if
you’d never thrown a punch or taken one I’d wage you would

if you went out with Addie Smith

She walks with all her five and nine
ankle and thigh, chin, neck and hair
and all that’s in between and every part of her
playing catch up, trying to overtake
or outdo every other part and as she passes
you wouldn’t, couldn’t not notice
and even if
you’re not the type to double take you’d find you’d turned and heard yourself say

“That must be Addie Smith”

Wise as moss, happy as heather
clever as a pencil and ready as leather
she fucks like a trucker and smiles like the queen
smells like a Sunday and drinks gasoline
she carries the past on the souls of her shoes
and drives as fast as this morning’s news
what you just thought of, she thought of last week it’s almost as if,
remember you’re weak,

you’re still in love with Addie Smith

at 30 she decided to turn her back on everything
and you know that’s a hard thing to do
turn your back on everything on absolutely everything
I mean just spin yourself dizzy
well she turned her back on everything including you
although you had your back turned too
it wasn’t as if
let’s face it, you were actually, practically, factually

in love with Addie Smith

And the years trundle by as they do
and we hear a little less, say a little less, think a little less
a dumb numbness sets in that some call happiness
others idleness, the rest forgetfulness
and then in the middle of this – this thickness
a spark that reminds us of what it was and is
the punch that brings you back as if
in miracle or in myth, the truth